


Wild Things

by Miniatures



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gabriel faked it, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 16:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4269816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miniatures/pseuds/Miniatures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It just wasn’t something Sam had thought about. Gabriel dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wild Things

It just wasn’t something Sam had thought about. Gabriel dying.

Sam knew there was a war on, he knew that angels could die as easily as fall, but Gabriel had never felt like a part of that. Gabriel was beyond mortality, beyond rules, beyond logic and fear. Perhaps it was one of the perks of being an archangel, or perhaps it was character bleed from the millennia of affected godhood. Sam had fought him, fucked him, and it had been like tackling a storm—some untold force of nature wrapped in skin. Sam had held him, and he had felt the power there.

Loving Gabriel should have been difficult. It was loving a wild thing, with blood on its hands and thorns on its tongue. But there was beauty in him, a brittle softness lurking there, and Sam had cracked the shell, and Gabriel had offered up his core.

He tasted of honey and burnt things. He said Sam tasted like cherries.

It was a power trip, Sam admitted to himself. Having the influence to bring an angel, a storm, a wild thing to its knees. To hold it and know he was holding its heart. More than that, it was a trust Sam wouldn’t have been sure he deserved to be given, except the giving itself made him worthy. And he was stronger than Lucifer because he forgave Dean, because he forgave Gabriel, because he forgave himself. He was stronger, because he was not afraid to be weak.

His legs gave when he saw the scorch marks.

Kali had left them and they’d watched the DVD, and Sam had driven back to the motel—or what was left of it, at least. With the gods gone it was evaporating into embers and ether, and the patch of hardwood that remained was black with dead wings— _you taste like someone burned a beehive_ —and cluttered with dead angel.

Sam fell and Gabriel was dead and he hadn’t fucking seen it coming.

It was his own damn fault, he reasoned, because he’d forgotten that it was possible. Because he’d convinced himself it _wasn’t_ possible. Because he’d let himself believe that God would be good enough to let him keep one thing.

He didn’t cry. He was too damn numb. Trailed his fingers in the ashes and prayed for a sign, prayed to the only name that mattered. _Come back_.

The feather landed on his fingers, downy and gold. Flecked with blood, because of course it was. Sam caught it, and he gave a bitter laugh. _Not yet_ , the feather said. _I’m sorry._

There would be no storm at his back when Lucifer came for him again. No archangel, no trickster, no god. No unknowable creature of power and light to champion him, no lover for a long, long time. But he knew he would make it. Sam knew he was strong. For he was worthy of the hearts of wild things.

**Author's Note:**

> This one I wrote at THREE in the morning instead of two. I'm moving on up. 
> 
> Also I would like to confirm for like the third time today that (just like in the show) Gabriel is not actually dead, because GreyMichaela is still sad about it.


End file.
